


Gifts Galore

by A_Galeb_Duhr_named_Squish



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: F/M, MakotoNiijimaWeek2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 12:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20675393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Galeb_Duhr_named_Squish/pseuds/A_Galeb_Duhr_named_Squish
Summary: An ink induced dream is interrupted by the remembrance of a meeting.





	Gifts Galore

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks, this'll be my first and only entry for Makoto Week this year, despite plans to do otherwise. Life happened, and I'm extremely ill right now, so I'm taking a rest. I pushed myself to even finish this one. As such, there's no moral, or larger message - just a fun bit of self-indulgence to keep the gears turning. Just a short one, friends. This is for Day 1 of Makoto Niijima Week 2019, and the prompt given is 'Books'. I took an on-the-nose approach, for the sake of brevity and ease.  
Enjoy!

Makoto felt at home with her books. They were a pleasant refuge in an otherwise demanding and repetitive world. She could simply yank a thick-set tome full of knowledge off one of the many shelves in her room, flick to any page that her thumb found, and completely immerse herself in whatever subject happened to grasp her attention at that moment. Minutes would pass, hours, until she came back to her worldly senses, alone and content in a dark room, long after the sun’s rays had escaped the scope of her window.

To be entirely honest, she might continue reading under those circumstances had her own nyctophobia and general paranoia not prodded her to relinquish a cozy cross-legged perch on her bed in favor of making the ever-arduous journey a meter to the right to turn on her nightlight. The simple act of reaching her arm out in order to flick a switch became a herculean task in the face of the absence of light, and her own imagination flaring up to create shapes and figures in the darkness, all writhing with malintent and formless anger. In a cruel truth that troubled Makoto, that seemed to be the only other time her imagination came forth; to scare her.

Maybe that’s what the books were for. While there were many and myriad educational textbooks and other modern-day grimoires full of knowledge befitting her status as an honors student along her walls, she still kept a scarce selection of fictitious works. The collective imaginations of the authors of said books was enough to help her own along in the hours where it wasn’t consumed by the task of making life difficult in general for the girl. Her own mind would create slithering serpents in the shadows, while one of her books conjured up images of great, majestic dragons in the light.

Makoto enjoyed the idea of dragons. Much better than whatever vile creatures her brain constructed using a coat, her desk, and the collective silhouettes of everything splayed out on her bedside table. Who knew a lamp could be so utterly, paralyzingly terrifying in the right light? Dragons weren’t terrifying. Sure, perhaps they were bigger, fiercer, and more dangerous than pandas, her choice animal, but unlike most angry and dangerous things in the world, there was something beautiful about the giant, scaled behemoths. She recalled the first time she witnessed her leader and lover, Ren Amamiya, bring the immense, golden form of Kohryuu into the fray; it was *just* like one of her novels. She _may_ have swooned a little on the inside. Just a little.

Of course, with the gentle glow of her nightlight, the ink-induced dreams would die, and Makoto would once more find herself in the world of the mundane. Though, perhaps it wasn’t completely dull – after all, she found herself at a time in her life where the supernatural had become a well-visited friend of hers.

On the subject of well-visited friends, she reminded herself that on that day, as summer ever deeper sunk its claws into late July, Ren was due to receive her at LeBlanc, the boy’s current place of stay. The two had arranged a meeting, of a softer, more welcoming kind than that of when the other phantom thieves would be present. Sure, Makoto appreciated the company of her new teammates – perhaps bar Ryuji, with whom she maintained a strenuous tolerance – but spending time in solitude with her as-of-recent romantic partner filled her with a warm contentedness; at least, once she spent enough time in the same room as him to be able to will away the shaking and muted blush that inevitably spread across her cheeks like a muffled wildfire.  
Still holding a thumb between pages of the absolutely riveting story that had sapped most of her Sunday with its wry, semi-comedic, unabashedly exciting structure, she plucked a long, thin, card bookmark from her bedside, slipping an edge into the inside of its spine before setting the novel down, cream-coloured cover facing upwards, towards the barren, white ceiling of Makoto’s room. She gazed out her window, and beheld the blue sky cushioned by an orange sunset; it would be night soon, further evidenced by the digital alarm clock that unwavering shone a dim red glow in the shape of five-thirty.

She could still make it to Ren’s place in under fifteen minutes if the commute was light, and her personal curfew set itself in the hours of eight o’clock, so while she didn’t have a wealth of time to spend with him, she could still indulge in the meeting a little. Makoto preferred to get her sleep in at six-thirty – seven, when study and homework found itself constricting around her again – but given the current abundant stresses of her life, she decided to push back her turn-in time in favour of activities for leisure. It wasn’t an easy resolution to enforce, since she still held herself to a certain standard of organization and prudence (despite playful jeers from her new friends), but once she actually landed on a pastime she could enjoy on her own, she took to it swimmingly.  
Of course, previously, Makoto would unwind with excursions into the city, at Ren’s side; The arcade off Shibuya center, Inokashira Park, or any of the other legion attractions and hidden nooks of Tokyo. However, given recent happenings involving Futaba Sakura, Ren found himself with less and less time to spend with Makoto. She didn’t mind; she understood the importance of his tasks, but it all the same irked her since she couldn’t evoke the courage to jump into the unfamiliar on her own. She had considered asking Ann Takamaki to accompany her, but the young model was strapped for time between her modelling job, her own studying, and visiting Shiho, who was going through strenuous physical therapy.

Books didn’t have those obligations, full timetables, or unpredictable happenings. Therefore, books made good company in a pinch.

Anyway, company. Ren.

Pocketing her mobile phone, Makoto stretched, and pushed herself up from her comfortable bed, swiveling her ankles momentarily to steady the numbness that had accumulated in her legs over the past two or so hours. Opening the door to the hallway outside, she was faced with pitch blackness, the wall that she _knew_ was just beyond her door frame wasn’t there; not to the eye. She scolded herself for not leaving a light on when she returned from her sojourn to the Shibuya markets.  
Thankfully, when set to its maximum brightness, her phone’s screen was enough for her to make it to the living room light switches without losing her determination and will to continue completely, though her lips still shivered, and her empty hand’s nails still dug into her palms. Fortunately, she kept them short enough that she didn’t break them, or hurt herself. Her hands were curled into fists more often than not, recently, given her new role among the phantom thieves, and she learned quickly that the gloves of her metaverse armour didn’t do her nails any favours either.

Makoto’s sister, Sae, wasn’t home just yet. Makoto knew she wouldn’t be for a while, providing the opening for her own journey. It wasn’t entirely certain as to whether or not Sae would approve of the visit, but being that she wasn’t present, the younger Niijima sister decided against worrying herself with such questions.

At the instant she slipped a pair of shoes on, her phone vibrated beside her, where she had laid it on the couch. A call from Ren. She answered it, clearing her throat against a fist before greeting the boy.

“Hello?”

Ren’s smooth voice flowed from the receiver, only a little louder than expected. “Hey, Makoto. Are you on your way over, yet?”

Reaching for the handle of the front entrance, she gave a passing glance back towards the almost hauntingly empty apartment she came from. “Um, yes. Sorry. I’ll be a little late.” She contained a nervous giggle. “I was distracted for a while.”

Ren laughed gently in her stead. “I see. You almost had me worried.”

Makoto locked the door behind her after pocketing a key from the rack on an inner wall, lowering her voice to avoid echoing through the hall. “It’s… kind of you to say that. I’ll have to move quickly If I want to make the next train.”

Ren picked up on what she meant. “Ah, I’ll let you go, then. Travel safe; I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me neither, um… babe.” Yikes. That could have sounded better, she admitted. Not wanting to hear either Ren’s laughter at what she said, or even a returned pet name (out of fear that she’d be walking through the streets beet red), she quickly continued before ending the call. “Um, bye!”

Just as hastily, she slipped her phone into the same pocket that housed her apartment’s key, and set off down the hallway.

Makoto made it to the station without incident, and like so many times before, flashed her student card, pushed herself into a crowded train car, took a seat, and let the minutes-long sojourn run its course. As she sat and waited, Makoto began to crave a distraction. The dull grinding of rails outside, the monotonous bumble of passengers exchanging small talk, even the tunnel’s lights flickering through the filth-smudged windows; the experience was rather boring, and at the same time, tiring. She felt her eyelids growing heavier, lulled downwards by the din of her surroundings. With a stray hand, she reached into her handbag, seeking with enough interest around it to preserve her awareness for just a little longer, just until the ride ended.

Sadly, the only object of import she managed to survey was her phone, not even in her bag, but instead her pocket. Even so, Makoto simply didn’t feel like browsing any kind of media at that point in time; harsh light from the screen, and all that. It was a shame she hadn’t thought to bring the novel she was reading along with her, being that she was in a spot of haste trying to gather her other belongings after noticing her unusual tardiness reflected in the clock.

She’d even forgotten where she was up to in the story momentarily. It came back to her as she focused on the subject, though. Makoto recalled an invasion of creatures from beneath the fictional world’s land, a monarch on the edge of declaring war on a rival nation, and the woman who sought to end both, with the help of a guild of mounted knights and mercenaries. It wasn’t typically her pace, or thematic interest, but it flowed from the paper well enough, and there was something about a powerful warrior woman that rang true to her own identity. Not that she’d admit it to any of her friends.

The thought of monsters tunneling up from underground brought a feeling of deep anxiety, and a sort of thick dread. It reminded her too much of Mementos.

“*Now arriving at Yongen Station.*” The intercom droned, electronically, pulling Makoto back into reality, just before she began to think about it a little *too* much.

Just like the traversal from her home to the nearby station, the stroll between Yongen Station and LeBlanc was short, uneventful, and peaceful. Despite it being a weekend day, the streets and alleyways were joyously empty, free of ruckus and bustle. The absence of such foot traffic made the walk shorter than previous bouts, and Makoto soon found her senses graced by the smell of boiling coffee, and the spiced aroma of curry, streaming through the door of the cafe like an avalanche as it swung open with a pull.

Sojiro greeted her with a grin and a brief wave, momentarily lowering a cigarette he held between his index and middle fingers. “Kid’s upstairs.”

Brevity. Good. Makoto liked brevity.

Upstairs she went, shoes softly colliding with the scarcely splintered wood steps. She couldn’t do anything to prevent the audible creaking, even though she tried her damnest to roll her feet in a stealthy way as she ascended. It was a habit she developed in LeBlanc, since the attic’s floor was far from solid, groaning with the weight of even Makoto’s relatively diminutive stature. The sound set her at unease, so she tried to avoid it. The stairs, though? There was no stopping that.

When she reached the apex of the staircase, she called across the dusty (more so than usual), yet organized and tidy, attic room, towards the dark haired boy who was seated on the end of his bed, peering down at his phone through one open eye as he rubbed the other with the back of a palm. He was dressed loosely; a pair of lightly-colored jeans, a set of grey socks, and a white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Makoto mumbled a greeting, and Ren turned his gaze towards the flight of stairs, and the girl standing before it. “Oh, hey. Did you get here alright?” He asked, standing, slipping his glasses back on, and making lazy strides towards her.

“Yes, it was fine. The train was a tight squeeze, but that’s to be expected.” Makoto answered with a thankful smile.

Ren returned the smile, and enshrouded Makoto in a tight hug, crossing his arms behind her, basing the embrace around her shoulders. She reciprocated, squeezing him shyly in return. Perhaps it was a good thing Ren seemed too shy to hug lower. For now, at least. They were still testing the waters and all that.

After a moment, Ren relinquished his hold, his eyes bright, and a warm smile playing across his lips. “So, I told you that I had something for you…” He turned, and made for the far back of the room, where an assortment of silhouettes were piled on top of each other behind the staircase. “Boss and I found some stuff while I was cleaning the place, stuff he didn’t want to keep. I’ve had Ryuji, Ann, and Yusuke around to take a peek, and figured that, with Boss’ permission, I should…”

“Give it away?”

“N-no! Like, redistribute it. So it’s not going to waste, right? Not… gathering dust.”

Makoto tilted her head, and raised her brows. “I guess that makes sense. It’s awfully sentimental of you, Ren.”

“I try my best.” Ren joked, disappearing behind a huge pile of junk, further into the darkness.

Makoto started after him, stopping in her stride as the blackness deterred her with its threatening stillness. Though, Makoto knew she was just imagining it. The mind was a powerful thing; she just wished it wasn’t working against her.

She heard rustling in the direction of Ren, followed by rattling, and a few objects falling over, unidentifiable in the dark. After a sharp inhale through the teeth, and an ‘oop’ from Ren, he emerged into the light of the attic once more, with a wide, woven basket in hand.

“So, take your pick, I suppose. As much as you like from this.” The boy brought the wicker basket into the light, setting it on the couch that fit snugly between a table and a work bench, before taking a seat next to it.

Makoto joined him, eyeing over the assorted baubles and relics of whatever antiquity they came from. She spied a few porcelain trinkets – small figures with detailed, delicate paint work. Among them was a tiny panda, no bigger than a thumb.

Ren must have noticed her lingering gaze, because he plucked it from where it sat, and presented it to her in an open palm. “I thought you’d take a liking to this one. Here.”

Makoto couldn’t stop a smile stretching across her face. Ren knew her well. It was easy to know that Makoto had a fondness for all things black, white, and fuzzy, but the thoughtfulness of remembering… that was something else entirely. Something welcome.  
She took it gratefully, holding it to her chest. “Thank you.”

The raven-haired boy sitting opposite Makoto gently brushed a few of the loose objects to the side of the basket, revealing a smooth, flat, dusty surface, some off-white colour beneath the grey.

“I managed to dig up a few textbooks, too. Old stuff, I don’t know how useful it’ll be.” He shyly smiled at the girl. “I just figured you might like to have them.”

Makoto pulled the topmost book from the small pile, and brushed the dust from the cover. Turning it over in her hands, she discovered that it was a print from the late 1980s – an outdated text on the subject of chemical sciences…

…Another one to add to the pile she had at home.

It’s not that she wasn’t grateful. The gesture was certainly appreciated, and she loved the fact that Ren had even considered a practical gift. He most likely didn’t even realize the issue. Makoto, given her position at Shujin Academy, was almost constantly swamped by work from studies, council work, chores at home, and thiefwork. Adding another dose of fuel to the fire, the textbook was another reminder of the weight she was forced to bear.

“Hey, Ren?” Softly, she spoke, testing her next words in her head, tentatively.

“Mm? What’s up?”

“I really appreciate this gift. I do…”

Ren’s face lit up, adorned by a warm smile and a tilt of the head. “It’s really no problem. You’re welcome.” He must have noticed Makoto biting the corner of her lip, and looking off to the side. “…but?”

“But it’s… I mean…” She sighed. “It’s something I can use for learning, and I want you to know I’m thankful for the thought. But at this point in time…”

“You’d rather have something for leisure. I see.” Ren nodded, awkwardly looking down upon his own clasped hands. “I should have thought about that.”

“It’s alright.”

Ren shot up from his seat, with seemingly renewed vigor. “I _might_ have something you could use for that purpose.” Much to Makoto’s surprise, the boy didn’t disappear behind the clutter as she would have expected, instead striding over to the cardboard box he lived out of – the one with all of his belongings from his home, far away. “Just need to… find it.”

Makoto stood up after him, taking measured steps towards him as he pulled the box out, opened the flaps, and began to rifle through and dig up assorted objects.

Clothes blanketed the top layer, followed by more clothes, and finally, more fragile objects. A glass, an extra pair of spectacles, other breakable things along those lines. Beneath those, a spare duvet. At last, Makoto watched Ren’s hands find the bottom of the box, and he unveiled a few books; though nothing that looked like an educational grimoire. No, instead they were novels of all walks and measures of use. Paperback novels with coffee rings on the covers. Hardcover compilations with yellowed pages. A few seemed well looked after, at a glance, but on closer inspection, the pages had small tears near the spine where it may have been turned wrong, or dog-eared corners.

“Wow. These are…”

Ren smiled up at her. “Old?”

“I was going to say well-loved. Used often.”

“A lot of them were my parent’s, and their parent’s before them.” He laid them all out lovingly, side by side one another. “Go for it. There’s some sci-fi here, fantasy of a few genres, even some crime thrillers if that’s more to your taste.”

Makoto shook her head, despite the very powerful allure of one novella in particular. “I couldn’t.”

“You can.”

She could. She wanted to. Even as Makoto refused, the reddish-colored cover of a thick-set novel with the intricate detailing of a sword piercing a green cloak called to her, beckoning her to just take a peek. It didn’t take long for her to cave.

“Th-this one. Please.”

“Oh, _Knight-Errant_? Good pick.” Ren nodded approvingly as he handed the book to her. “I hope this doesn’t come off wrong, but I never would have taken you for a sword-and-sorcery reader.”

She grinned dumbly. “Don’t… let that get out.”

“Then again… you did take a shine to ‘Queen’.” Ren returned the smirk.

The smiles set the tone for the rest of the evening, even with the relatively short time they had left to spend with each other. Every so often, when Ren retreated downstairs to brew a fresh mug of coffee, or retrieve a bite to eat for the two of them, Makoto would thumb through the pages of the book, getting a feel for what was in store. It seemed like two of the lead protagonists were women, which she liked. One wielded a hefty greatsword with one hand, which, while being unbelievable in the hands of anyone, she couldn’t deny enjoying the visual of such a spectacle. The other was roguish, dabbling in chemistry and alchemy to create smokescreens and potions and such. The third of the supposed ‘party’ was a talker, charismatic and fluent in many social languages.

Being a Japanese translation from what she gathered to be some form of Germanic, some of the phrases were a bit hit-or-miss, but she knew enough from myriad studies to understand the gist.

Before long, the two lovers parted, with Makoto arriving home without much delay. The sound of the pipes in the walls with water flowing through them let her know that her sister, Sae, was home, probably running a bath. Makoto had time to prepare some dinner, then. Ahead of that, though, she waltzed into her room once more, book clasped between her hands, placing it tenderly on top of the one already stacked on her bedside dresser.

It was a fine gift. She looked forward to using it.


End file.
